The Long Walk Back
by Hidden-Monster
Summary: Where did Steve Newlin go after Russell's death?


Steve didn't stop until he came close to the highway. The sight of the moving cars shocked his swimming mind back to reality. He didn't really want to think about anything right now, avoid processing what he had saw, so his subconscious had switched to survival mode. Running away from the danger was the first order of business, but what now?

Sitting down, he had to think. It was unavoidable now.

Russell was gone. All their plans were gone.

The second detail made him feel especially bad, just for the fact that it existed in his mind. His head hasn't wrapped itself around the reality that Russell was really gone, but the new person that Steve felt like with him had already vanished.

Steve's eyes burned as his throat ached for air, despite the fact that, as a vampire, he technically did not need to breathe. For a few moments, he allowed himself to sob and choke on the air as damp coldness descended upon his cheeks.

He had to go back to the Authority building, that was the only place left for him to go. Bon Temp was near Shreveport. Shreveport was on the North-western corner of Louisiana, so New Orleans was clear on the other side of the state. Russell had flown them here in a moderately short amount of time, but Steve was left with the best option of making his way back on foot. He could attempt to get someone's car, but his speed as a vampire was still faster than any vehicle.

Standing up, Steve started walking at normal speed along the road, far enough away that no one would take notice of him. Sooner or later, he would see a road sign and know which way he was going. South/East was the direction he needed to get back. He regretted not remembering which way he and Russell had came through.

Thoughts of Russell started to trigger another crying fit in him. He didn't want to recall what had happened, but considered that he should anyway. Try to preserve every tiny detail he still had in his memory.

What little he remembered, was waking up in the wet grass all alone. Generally surprised at being knocked out, as he didn't expect his vampire body to succumb to such a weakness. Off in the distance, he could hear Russell laugh, so he walked towards the sound.

He passed Jason's car. Recalled being a little upset that Russell was out there laughing and apparently having a good time instead of helping him, but then he spotted the beams of light. They were exactly like the ones that shot him into the field and these were directed at Russell.

But they were not affecting him! Taunting an unseen person, Russell slowly advanced to the source, until..

Eric Northman, it was Eric Northman who killed Russell. But wasn't Eric suppose to be imprisoned? Did he escape? Or did Salome send him to kill them both?!

"Oh God.." Steve whispered to himself. If he went back to the Authority, would he just be walking into his own deathtrap? But, no. She needed him there. The AVL needed him. How would they explain if he had another disappearance. ..Unless they wanted to kill him and blame it on humans.

No, this theory was getting him no where. The Authority was the safest and really, the only option for him now. He would apologize to Salome. Say that Russell made him leave. Russell was older and stronger, so naturally Steve had no choice in the matter. She would have to believe it was true.

Steve followed the interstate 49 highway for awhile, until he branched out into speeding along the great Red River. The Mississippi River went straight to New Orleans and the Red River would join into the Mississippi at some point. Although it was hardly the time, he mentally patted himself on the back for being a good student in Southern landmarks.

His watch showed it was nearly 5 o'clock when the sky began to lighten. Although Steve dreaded it, he had to find a place to 'go to ground', as Russell had called it. He ventured into the nearby town until finally finding a church. It was Catholic, but would do. And it was only the cemetery that he needed after all. Besides a isolated wooded area, it was the safest place to go to ground in a populated location, Russell had said. There was usually loose dirt already there and few wanted to disturb the sacred grounds without a good reason.

Without a shovel, he made use of a large decorative rock for digging through the earth. Using his supernatural speed, he hurriedly carried through on his task until he had made a sizable enough tunnel for his use. Taking another glance at the sky and his watch, he piled the loose dirt back into the hole, reminded himself again that he didn't have to breathe before diving into the pile. Steve continued to desperately dig until his hands found the compacted land which gave him a sign that he likely hit the bottom of his trench. Then Steve brought his legs near his body, best as he could, so that he didn't feel like they were sticking out of the ground. His eyes were shut tight before he hit the dirt, so there wasn't much else to do than try to fall until the death sleep and be thankful that Russell explained to him how to bury oneself.

"It was almost like he knew," Steve morbidly pondered. Everything was all part of God's plan. And God liked taking away people Steve loved, as it turned out. Grief-stricken and angry, Steve switched to planning out his alibi for the Authority, as he drifted out of conscious.

House later, he made the mistake of opening his eyes upon waking, and was rewarded with particles of dirt wedged into his eyelids. He squirmed, working up his strength to move his limbs against the cold hardened soil surrounding him. As the settled debris began to break apart, Steve climbed up, spitting out dirt as he meet the night's sky once again.

Along with a few spectators, he found out as he glanced at the movement by the Church's metal gates. A group of 4 teenagers, 3 African American, one token white; stood by with aloof expressions on their faces, silently watching him emerge from his grave.

Up until this point, he had avoided most people in his travel. Steve felt he could easily overpower anyone who got in his way, but emotionally, he just didn't want to interact with anyone at the present. However the kids spying on his private activity was making him angry. But just before he advanced, they casually turned and continued walking down the street at a moderate pace.

Killing them was still a possibility. He was hungry. He was ALWAYS hungry, it seems, but he was feeling too dreadful to feed at the moment. So he went about shaking the dirt from his clothes and continued on his way.

Once he covered another city and entered a less traveled road, Steve stopped to rest and grieve at a weather damaged park bench and table, located in front of an abandoned store. Amidst once again replaying the events of the previous night in his mind, Steve stumbled upon a thought that he felt dense for not considering before.

But after pulling the phone from his jacket pocket, he stopped and reconsidered. What if they really were trying to kill him? Nan Flanagan was taken out just before they made him head of the AVL, who's to say they wouldn't do the same to him? And once the Authority's plan of taking over the humans was successful, there wouldn't even be a need for the AVL.

Steve sighed in desperation as he stared at the sunrise wallpaper on his phone. Where else could he go?

Aunt Louise would likely take him, he considered. Louise was his father's sister, but was never very religious or involved in the anti-vampire causes his father worked towards. But everyone tolerated her because she was kin. And Aunt Louise was always considered the odd one among the family, as it was. Never married, lived alone out in the country. Seldom dressed very ladylike. All of which would cause those who knew Louise to whisper gossip. But growing up, Steve had still liked his aunt quite a bit. She was seldom serious and had taught him how to shoot a hunting riffle at an early age.

Only problem was that he didn't have her phone number memorized. It had been in his old phone, left behind with his other human possessions. And she was too far away for him to travel. Perhaps there was still a chance he could get to a phonebook or glamour someone's vehicle away. But for now, he had to go with Plan A and just have faith.

Hours had passed but the night was far from over. By now Steve considered himself exhausted. The fatigue he felt as a vampire differed from the human kind, but all the traveling was starting to diminish him greatly. In addition, his hungry was now fully front and center, causing his fangs to remain extended without any effort on his part.

By now he had tried calling the Authority building, only to have it ring and ring. Even attempted Salome and Rosalyn with the same result. The dread in his pit of his stomach grew, but there was nothing to do but keep walking on his path. Steve tried to think positively. Maybe they blocked his number, but if he returned to the Authority building, Salome would at least see him. She would forgive him. He'd be back in his warm room and his warm bed, but with no Russell.

Back to reality, Steve's chin started to tremble as wrapped his jacket closer, trying to imagine the pretend warmth in his head. On the occupied highway he was traveling along, a noisy automobile had stopped behind him, perhaps thinking he was a need of a ride. Going back to his fantasy, he tried to keep things realistic without getting too sad. No Russell. But a warm bath. Blood. Play with Emma. Emma, Russell's gift to him.

"Stop! Identify yourself!" an authoritative voice bellowed from behind him.

Steve sped away, now sad, tired, hungry and pissed off that some stranger was trying to order him around. He slowed his step 2 miles up the road, but could hear a vehicle racing along, attempting to catch up. He considered running, either into the nearby wooded area, or farther up the path and then taking a detour, but was not in the mood to give in to defeat. Who ever was following him was going to become his dinner, ride or both.

The vehicle pulled up, less gracefully than before, and revealed itself as a large black box truck. Once it had fully stopped, an armored individual leapt from the passenger seat and harshly instructed Steve to "Freeze."

Steve discreetly wiped the area below his eyes clean, attempting to look presentable before he stepped towards the man, who was now joined by a similar clad accomplice.

"I'm Steve Newlin!" he shouted at them.

They didn't react except for quickly glancing at each other. "Reverend, Steve Newlin!" he elaborated for their benefit. "I am the head of the AVL. You have no right speaking to me in this manner!"

A flash of light blinded his eyes for a moment. Out of habit, he rubbed his eyes once more. Then he noticed the green dot dancing over his hand. Men continued to shout as he lowered his jaw to display the extended fangs.

Steve thought he heard one of them mention the name "Edgington," in between their commands directed at him. Another truck had also parked behind him. Reinforcements or more witness, he considered. Quickly, he changed his strategy.

"I was..taken hostage by those who I believe are responsible for the Tru Blood bom-"

His words were cut off as a long metal object was wrapped around his neck. Steve had only felt the material twice since being turned, but could easily recognize the slow burn sensation of silver over his skin.

Padded gloved hands seized his arms, pushing him to the ground. However, he still had enough strength to move his upper body forward, making a few futile attempts to bite at the attackers.

"Shoot him!" one demanded.

Instead, the choke chain tightened. Steve screamed into the rough pavement of the road, until he felt the burning metal being pulled away from his skin. In reality, he realized it was just them turning his head to the side. A sticky band was placed over his mouth. Silver shackles locked over his wrist. Then, darkness came.

He allowed them to lift him up. Even attempted to walk as they led him a few short steps into, what was presumably, one of the vehicles. The armed men, now unseen, pushed him ahead until his back was placed against a solid wall.

The handcuffs clicked. For a brief moment, his bleeding wrists welcomed the healing air, until they were raised and locked into yet another silver restraint.

But the chain around his neck, at long last, was finally removed.

And for the moment, he had to be thankful for that one small miracle.

Swallowing the salvia collecting his mouth and trying not to breathe in the foul stretch of the hood placed over his head, he additionally discovered that, with enough practice, one could angle the silver bands locked around his wrists so that it barely touched the skin.

Nearly a year ago, he had been abducted in a similar manner, he reflected. That, as it turned out, was actually a blessing in disguise.

Without delay, Steve went back to mentally working on his alibi. A difficult task, given that he didn't know who he was dealing with, but he tried to remain confidence despite the recent hardships.

He had been the sole survivor of his family's murder. Endured being kidnapped by vampires. Walked away from the one who killed Russell. History had showed him one truth.

He was Steve Newlin and he was a survivor.


End file.
